We Need a Holiday
by Casy Dee
Summary: Set season 4-ish.  Abby and Connor are missing the wild  just a little bit  and take a romantic holiday getaway, but as usual... trouble finds them.  Story Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a little fic for Evenstar_Estel , and I have incorporated her lovely ConbyKink prompt in, as well. This chapter T, will be M next chapter or the one after.**

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We Need a Holiday

They'd earned a holiday. A real holiday, not what they usually got... a few days off whilst firmly attached to the tether of a mobile phone. After the mess they'd dealt with over the past months concerning the new regime of the ARC, they deserved it. If it weren't for Connor and Abby, there would _be _no ARC... or at least, the ARC would have been subverted, and all for greed and arrogance. Two motivations that Connor could barely comprehend… his brain just wasn't wired that way. Abby hoped to hell it never would be. Enough of his innocence had been taken from him, she'd not want to see him lose that, too.

It had been a rough going for a time at the ARC, once they'd returned. Connor had even been sacked, and she'd started to believe that he was suffering from post traumatic stress and paranoia. He'd seen enemies everywhere, and he had just _snapped _after they sacked him_. _He'd been right though, and she was glad she'd squashed her own doubts and stood behind him through it all. He had admitted that she was the only thing that had kept him going, and if she'd abandoned him as the rest had, he would have given up. Abby didn't believe _that _for a second.

Connor believed that had they simply fallen in line and accepted the new regime unquestioningly, the horrifying future they had witnessed of an empty human less world filled with future predators would have come to pass. Abby was not so sure about that, but when Connor started going on about divergent timelines she always got a little bit lost. She'd just rather be grateful they'd made it home, and that the ARC was once again focused on what Cutter had wanted… to unravel the mystery behind the anomalies so they could be stopped. He would have been so proud of Connor.

Abby and Connor were stood in Lester's office, waiting for him to acknowledge their presence. Connor was fidgeting, the agitation showing through despite his attempt to remain calm. The muscle in his jaw ticked as he waited for the answer to the question he'd posed. They'd never really been given the time they needed to just settle into the modern world again, and Connor had insisted that they'd be given it now, since things had mostly settled down. Lester hadn't even raised his eyes as he replied that they were needed at the ARC and it was out of the question.

"You got on fine without us whilst we were abandoned in the Cretaceous, din't ya?" Connor shot back.

Lester smirked but continued to read the file he had spread before him on his desk, "And I think that a year away is more than adequate for a holiday."

Connor quite literally _growled _as he took an aggressive step forward so that he was stood directly in front of Lester's desk. Abby watched with raised eyebrows as Connor curled his fingers into fists so tight they were white knuckled, planted them on the desk and stared Lester down with a look of such fierce indignation that Lester had actually pushed himself backwards in his chair. He'd gotten Lester's undivided attention from that point forward. Before she knew how it happened, they'd been booked for a trip, and it was to be paid for by the ARC. Connor had claimed it was their due for 'hazardous duties performed in service of the Government.' Bloody brilliant, was what it was.

Connor smiled shyly at Abby as he disclosed their destination, hoping that he'd made a good choice. He'd managed to keep it a secret all the way until they had boarded a plane for the final leg of the journey. When Abby had said she wished they could just get away from it all and go somewhere wild and unspoiled, Connor knew he had to act. She'd seemed so sad, choked by the press of technology and people. She missed their time in the past, she admitted. Connor most certainly did _not, _but he did miss having Abby all to himself, and he missed the sheer beauty of the unspoiled wilderness. Abby wanted a proper holiday, and what Abby wanted, Connor would give her… no matter what 'it' was.

Haltingly, he related that he'd reserved them a hut on one of the more remote islands of the Galapagos. They would be staying on the island of Espanola, home to the only color changing iguanas on the planet. He remembered Abby telling him all about the trip that one of her foster families had taken her onto the islands when she'd been a kid. It had been one of the rare happy stories of her childhood, and she'd mentioned that she'd love to go there again someday. He'd arranged for a personal tour of the adjoining islands, after which they would be left to their own devices.

Connor licked his lips nervously and waited for Abby's reaction as he told her what he'd planned. She threw her arms around him and kissed him breathless; when she broke away her smile warmed him through and through. He _had_ done well. He grinned back, immensely self satisfied. Any time he was able to get that sort of reaction from Abby, it was worth any bother he'd suffered to get it… and this trip had been a _lot_ of work.

Connor had truly outdone himself when putting together this trip. It was a prime example of just how good he was to her, and he _was_ good to her. So much so, that for the millionth time Abby wondered what she'd been so afraid of. It should have never taken being trapped together in the Cretaceous for her to see what she'd been missing out on. Connor was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Some of the people at work thought her mad to be with him, and more than a few had questioned if she just felt obligated because of what they'd been through together. She'd set them straight. She was with Connor because he was Connor, and she loved him.

She was well aware that the new personnel at the ARC thought Connor was impetuous, unstable and perhaps dangerous, but Abby knew the real him. He was still the same sweet idealistic man she'd always counted as a friend, he'd just become… tempered. The core of strength that had always been inside of him was even stronger, and had simply become more visible on the outside. He'd been affected by the time in the Cretaceous, just as she had, but it seemed to go deeper for him. She supposed after facing down the things they had, it was to be expected.

"I take it that means you approve, yeah?" he asked.

She nodded, "I do. How long have we got here?"

His smile dimmed slightly, "Four days. I tried for a week, but… well, I think I pushed as far as I was going to get. I'd really rather not be sacked again."

Abby rolled her eyes, "Connor, as if they would. Especially after-"

He laughed, "Yeah, you're right." he granted, "And like I said, I built it and I can bring it all down just as easy, can't I?"

She smiled, amused at his cocky reply, "Connor, no work talk on holiday, okay?" Abby reminded him.

He nodded and put his arm around her, "Okay. Sorry. Let's get our things and find our guide. He's meant to meet us outside the airport."

Connor was a bit put off by the tour guide, but they'd only be using him for one day. He was going to get them to their island and settled into their hut, and then he'd give them a tour. The full service yacht tours were far more typical tourist fare, but Connor would much rather keep his feet on the ground if at all possible, and Abby would be more interested in the land species verses the marine species anyway. They'd just be in the boat to get from one island to the next; he wanted to have a general lay of the land, and he thought Abby might enjoy it.

All visitors were supposed to be accompanied by a licensed Galapagos naturalist guide at all times, and they were supposed to remain on the trails and within the visitor sites. This was not what Abby would want, so Connor had found Alfredo, a guide that would accommodate their desire to be left alone… for a price. It was a bribe, pure and simple, but Connor figured he could overcome his distaste of the tour guide since he wouldn't have to deal with him for long. He gritted his teeth as the man leered at Abby yet again. If he'd not stop looking at her like that, that is.

He'd also had to pull some strings to get them a hut on one of the unpopulated islands. They were usually reserved for scientific expedition teams, or for the very rich that wanted the privacy of their own strip of beach. He'd called in a favor from Jenny Lewis to secure it… she still had contacts in high places, and she'd been happy to call them in for Connor. It would be much like their time in the Cretaceous… minus the constant fear of death and the dinosaurs, that is.

Abby didn't fancy their tour guide, but Connor had worked so hard to make this vacation perfect for her that she swallowed down the uncomfortable feeling that rose up every time he looked at her. One glance at Connor told her he'd not missed the way he was eying her, and the smarmy way he continued to complement them both gave her the shivers. She was even more uneasy as they boarded his "yacht," but she pushed it down.

"Hey, Mr. Temple, you are government, yes?" Alfredo asked.

"Not exactly. I'm a… scientist, but I work for the government," Connor hedged.

Alfredo nodded, "Good work?"

Connor smiled wryly, "Yeah. Good enough, I suppose."

Alfredo made a noise of acknowledgement, "Must pay good to afford private hut."

Abby narrowed her eyes at the man. He was asking entirely too many pointed questions about their work. Connor was starting to realize that as well, she was happy to see.

He just shrugged, "Not really, no, but the government is footing the bill on this one."

Abby gave Connor a pointed stare, "I'm going to go have a bit of a lie down, Connor."

It was code for 'I'm going to call Becker and let him know our location.' Connor nodded; he was rubbish at subterfuge, but at least he'd seemed to get the message to shut up. Part of the agreement to let them travel so far away was that they needed to check in regularly and keep the ARC informed of their location. It chaffed to be under such restrictions, but Becker had insisted in the name of security. They agreed to do it for him.

Alfredo grinned, "Ah… best way! Free! You must be important, then?"

Connor followed Abby with his eyes as she went below deck, "I'd rather not talk about it, if ya don't mind,"

Perhaps he could just offer him another bribe and have Alfredo drop them at their island? All he really wanted was some time alone with Abby, anyway. Connor held his hand to his stomach, trying to fight down the queasiness. He was beginning to get seasick, much to his dismay. He usually did alright for the short term, but the waves had gotten choppy, rocking the little boat violently. He planted his hands on the railing and leaned over, feeling his stomach roiling. This was _so _not how he wanted to spend his holiday with Abby.

Abby stiffened and froze as she heard Connor cry out; she suppressed her driving urge to come running to his aid, she needed to use her head. Perhaps he'd just injured himself? He was horribly accident prone and she'd feel a fool if she just rushed out like a madwoman because he'd hurt himself. Still... it paid to be cautious. She crept up the remaining few stairs and snuck around to the front of the yacht, keeping her body low. She ducked behind some crates as one of the three-man crew passed by, narrowly avoiding detection, and then crept forward. She cautiously peeked around to see the front deck. Absently she reflected that Connor would have known whether to call it port or aft or whatever.

No. She was not over-reacting at all. Connor lie on the deck, unconscious, and their guide Alfredo was stood over him with a large rifle in his hands. He whistled for one of his crew to tie him up and take him below deck. She spoke enough rudimentary Spanish to get the barest gist of the conversation, but it was enough to know they were up to nothing good.

_Shit shit shit! _She'd been afraid of that. That guide had been much too interested in Connor. It was commonplace for travelers to be taken hostage in this part of the world in the hopes of receiving some sort of ransom. She'd guess that Alfredo had pegged Connor as a perfect hostage. Government job, enough pull to get a private hut, all alone with only his little girlfriend for company… bad thing was that he was right. Connor was invaluable to the ARC team, and he _would_ be ransomed.

She ducked down below some crates and thought fast. They would be coming for her any moment. She needed to get off of the boat and call for backup… but what if she lost Connor? What if she couldn't get help to him in time? What if… She shook her head, frustrated. She didn't have _time_ for this. She'd have to find a place to hide, but the ship was small, and they'd find her fairly quickly simply by searching the whole boat.

Her eyebrows knit together as she debated her options. Her eyes lit on the small lifeboat tied to the side of the yacht… option one, take the lifeboat, but she had to move quickly. Option two, somewhere to hide. She looked upwards, her eye catching on a loose board above her head. There was a pitched roof over the wheelhouse, and the boards that made up the ceiling were as warped and aging as the rest of the yacht, and one of them was pulled loose. There would be very little room in the crawlspace between the ceiling and the roof, but she doubted anyone would ever think to check there. It would be a very tight fit for her, and certainly none of the men would fit. She could transmit the coordinates to Becker, and keep an eye on Connor. If she could only think of a way to make the men on the yacht believe she'd jumped ship. _The lifeboat… _but she was running out of time.

Abby untied the boat and set it adrift and then clambered up the crates stacked by the wall where she'd been hiding, moved the loose board out of the way, and levered herself up. It _was_ a tight squeeze, but she managed to wedge herself into the tight space and replace the board. She couldn't see Connor, but she could hear everything the men said on deck, and they were already looking for her. Connor was going to be frantic when he awoke… she wished she had a way to tell him she would get them out of this, somehow.

Connor winced as he came to, and then tried to reach for his pounding head, only to find that his hands were tied tightly behind him, and he'd been secured to a chair. His eyes flew open, he blinked rapidly to try to clear the blood that had run into his right eye. He struggled, but he'd been tied too tightly. He was alone. _Where was Abby? _All the breath left his body as he thought what could be happening to her… the way that Alfredo was looking at her… what if they had her?

Connor struggled anew, ignoring the pain it caused, "Abby!" he screamed.

TBC

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A/N: Hmm. I know. Sorry about that. Um, I'm starting on the next chapter though. Does that help? No, I have not forgotten 'Two Against the World' (post HMS series of one-shots), but I wanted to do this one first.

**Hope you like, and comments are love and they speed up that muse. *grins* Feed her please?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So here is part two. Hope she lives up to your expectations. Nervous! *crosses fingers* Thanks to the folks that left a review! **

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Part Two

Connor screamed out for Abby again… no answer from her. He prayed it wasn't because she _couldn't_ answer. His mind fabricated millions upon millions of scenarios where she was hurt, or trapped or maybe they had her gagged? All because he had to find a tour guide that would take a bribe. Now that he thought about it, he felt like an idiot. If the man had been willing to risk his job for money, it only made sense that he'd be willing to throw away his job for a whole lot of money. That is, if he even _was _a guide; Connor certainly wouldn't have known the difference if the license he'd been presented was false, and the man's yacht had certainly looked more worse for the wear than the others. He should have stayed with the plan the travel agency had presented.

He glanced around, trying to determine where he'd been taken. It looked like one of the small cabins below deck, and it was none too clean. He'd been tied to a chair, his arms pinned to the sides of his body, and his legs secured to the legs of the chair in the same fashion. His hands and feet were cold, a sure sign that the bonds were too tight. His captors had used coils upon coils of rope; there would be no escaping.

"Abby!" he shouted again into the empty room.

Alfredo entered the tiny cabin holding a large rifle. He smiled genially, and then struck Connor in the gut with the butt of the gun. Connor cried out in pain as his stomach lurched, nausea washing over him. He'd already emptied the contents of his stomach into the ocean so all he managed was a few ragged dry heaves. If the pain radiating from his head was any indication, Alfredo had hit him over the head whilst he was heaving his guts out into the ocean and Abby had been below deck. It was the last thing he remembered, at any rate.

"Where is Abby?" Connor gasped as soon as he was able to speak again.

"You will talk on camera and ask for ransom. Your government, they will pay, or we will kill you," Alfredo grinned.

Connor shook his head, "No. They'll come get me. Probably already on the way. Let me and Abby go, and I'll tell 'em not to come after you."

Alfredo's smile disappeared. He struck Connor in the stomach again, harder this time. Connor gritted his teeth, determined not to make a sound, but he couldn't stop the cry torn from his throat, even if it was muffled by his closed mouth.

"You _will _make video, and they _will _pay," Alfredo insisted.

"No. Not until I've seen that Abby is okay," Connor refused.

Alfredo drew his arm back and struck Connor across the face with a violent backhand, "You _will._"

Connor grunted in pain as the blow fell, "Where is Abby?" Connor gritted out.

His head was spinning and his ears were ringing, and the nausea twisting his belly hadn't subsided. He held on to the belief that they'd not kill him. They wanted money, pure and simple, and dead hostages were not worth much. He just had to hope Abby had managed to get through to Becker when she'd went below deck to call. _Where _was_ Abby? _Could she have escaped? Had she… left him here? Doubt wormed its way into his heart, told him that she'd left him to die. _Of course she had left him_, he berated himself for feeling abandoned, _she had to get help_.

"You don't have her, do ya?" Connor smirked.

If they had her, they would have been using her against him. She'd gotten away. Connor grinned. It hurt… his lips were swollen and he tasted blood in his mouth, but he had to smile. Abby had escaped. _That's my girl._ Help would be on the way… he just had to hold out until it arrived. She'd get Becker to call in a special operations maneuver… god, he'd never live it down, but at the moment he could care less.

Alfredo raised the rifle again; Connor squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for another blow. This time it landed over his right kidney. He couldn't hold back the scream; it just hurt too badly. His body tried to vomit again and again, but it had nothing to give. _When will I learn when to just shut up?_ he asked himself. It had been thoughtless of him to antagonize his captors. He would do best to just cooperate and wait for rescue. Abby was free, and that was the important part. He could handle this. He _could._ He hoped.

"We must convince your government… I am _very_ serious. Video will show we will hurt you… and if they try to rescue… you die," Alfredo bared his teeth in a predatory smile, "And your captors are violent men. The longer we wait for money, the more you suffer."

Alfredo held up Connor's mobile, "What is the number, Mr. Temple? I'd like to speak to your government boss… then we make the video."

Connor fought to keep the relief off of his face. He could give him the number of the ARC… or Danny or Becker. They'd get a military recon team in after him for sure. _Yeah… just like when you were trapped in the Cretaceous. _His lips compressed as he tried to not think what he was thinking. They hadn't had a choice. Danny was trapped himself, and Becker… well Becker hadn't even been working at the ARC any longer. They were unfair thoughts to have, but he couldn't help having them. He wanted to believe in his friends. He wanted to believe in Abby.

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Abby pressed her fingers to her trembling lips as Connor's tortured scream rang out. What were they doing to him? She wished she could tell him that he wasn't alone. He'd screamed her name, and it had about done her in. She checked her mobile again, hoping that she'd have a signal. Becker would know something was wrong when they didn't check in again, but that would take hours, and meanwhile Connor was getting violently beaten. Why would they hurt him like that? He was tied up and helpless; what was the point of it?

She rested her forehead on her hands as she tried to ignore what was happening to her boyfriend. He was tougher than people had ever given him credit for. He could survive this, she was sure of it. Loud music began playing from the wheelhouse along with the unmistakable sound of laughter. Her hands formed fists as she fought down the urge to beat something… she was _furiou_s. These men laughed and partied with Connor's agonized cries sounding at regular intervals as a backdrop, completely unaffected… with the exception of Alfredo who was still hard at work brutalizing him. Was his suffering cause for celebration? Did it sound like their payroll?

Logic told her to wait it out. To be patient and just wait for the rescue. Connor shouted again and she shivered. There was no way. No way she could listen to that and ignore it. Three men on the boat, plus the skipper… all were armed, although they didn't move like soldiers. If she could get to Connor… The problem was trying to get out of her little crawlspace without making any noise, and then getting below deck without alerting any of the men in the wheelhouse. Their music was loud, probably to help drown out Connor. The sky had grown dark whilst she'd been hiding, and the crashing seas along with the raucous music would help her move undetected. She just had to be _very_ quick. Connor cried out again, a stifled sound that ended raw and painful, and she knew she had to try.

Abby slid the board concealing her hiding place out of the way and squeezed through the narrow opening. Her toes touched the crate below; she dropped down to land in a crouch. She refused to think farther ahead than getting to Connor. These men had hurt him, or given tacit approval by letting it happen; they deserved anything they got. She'd wager that this was not the first time they'd done this to trusting tourists. She wondered if they'd ever killed anyone. She wondered if she'd have to… no. No time for thoughts like that. She had to focus.

Abby peeked into the wheelhouse; the crew was playing cards and drinking. Good. If she could get to Connor, they stood a chance.

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Connor tried to be silent in front of the camera. He tried… but it hurt so badly. His own mobile hadn't had a signal, but Alfredo had been able to reach the ARC… and Lester. Lester had been typical Lester, Connor was sure. It was confirmed by the sour expression on Alfredo's face and Alfredo's repeated refusals to whatever it was Lester had asked of him. He'd given Alfredo an email address to send the video, but he hadn't allowed him to speak with Connor. Alfredo had just aimed a kick in between his legs, and despite his resolve to stay silent, he'd screamed loud enough for Lester to hear.

The call had been short; Alfredo was afraid it would be traced. All the details would be in the video which he'd proudly proclaimed was untraceable. Connor hid his smile. _Nothing_ was untraceable, and he was certain they'd had enough time to get a fix on him. He just had to wait and hope that the team hadn't been cowed by his threats to hurt him. He sincerely doubted it. Alfredo wanted him to appear in desperate straits for his video, but he'd be damned if he gave Alfredo what he wanted. Sheer, stubborn will rose up in him, overriding any logic. Connor set his jaw and glared up at Alfredo, daring him to do his worst.

Abby padded down the hallway, keeping to the shadows as she made her way to Connor. Alfredo was stood over him, rifle in his hands. Connor was conscious, though barely. His dark hair was matted with blood, his lip was swollen and cut open, and a large purpling bruise covered his right cheek. Pure incandescent rage filled Abby… she wanted to kill Alfredo. She wanted him to die. There was no reason to do this to Connor. None. He hadn't needed to hurt him like this to get the ransom money… he'd done it because he liked to hurt people.

Alfredo turned to address the camera, "The longer I wait, the more he suffers. Deposit money in account. Try to rescue him, and he dies," he emphasized his point by roughly shoving the barrel under Connor's chin.

Connor glared up at Alfredo, refusing to beg for the camera.

"Allow me to show you what I think about your demands to leave him unharmed," Alfredo grinned, "_I_ make the rules."

He leaned the rifle against the wall and drew a large knife from a sheath at his waist. Connor's eyes widened. He wasn't sure what he'd do with the knife, but it couldn't be good.

"Surely he doesn't need all his fingers? Each hour I wait, I cut one off," Alfredo warned.

His fingers? No. _No. What the hell was _wrong_ with this guy? _Connor struggled, but his arms were tightly bound alongside his body, his hands exposed and vulnerable by his sides. The fear of loosing his fingers frightened him like the beatings had been unable to. He saw the knife as if it moved in slow motion…

"No! No! Please, no!" Connor shouted, his voice cracking in terror as Alfredo brandished the knife.

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Abby was running out of time. She had to act. She moved silently into the little cabin and aimed a well placed kick at Alfredo's knee. The loud crack of the joint collapsing along with Alfredo's scream of agony told her she'd connected. She scooped up the rifle and let loose a roundhouse to his head to finish him off. He dropped to the ground, silent and motionless.

"Abby? What're ya doin' here?" Connor rasped, his voice all but gone.

"Getting you out of here. Tell me if anyone is coming, " she answered, her voice hushed.

The rest of the crew would be in any moment; there was no way they didn't hear that. She claimed Alfredo's knife and used it to slice through the ropes holding Connor to the chair. Her hands were shaking and she couldn't move fast enough. She got him free, finally, and attempted to help him up. Connor gritted his teeth against the pain as his legs failed him. He'd lost circulation for too long. Abby threw her arm around his waist and heaved him up to standing. This time he managed it.

"Can you walk?" Abby asked, concern coloring her voice.

Connor nodded. He _would_, if it meant getting him out of this. The made their way down the short hallway to the narrow staircase, Abby taking the lead. Connor held the knife, although as shaky as he felt, it likely wouldn't do him any good. Abby froze as a body appeared in front of the staircase, blocking their exit. She brought the rifle up and prepared to shoot.

"Abby? Connor?" A familiar voice called out.

The black clad man moved closer and Abby laughed out loud in relief.

Connor grinned, "Becker… what took so long?" he asked, his words slow and careful. His brow creased, confused, "But… that's impossible… unless?"

Becker had the grace to look abashed, "You lot aren't the only ones that needed a holiday."

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TBC

**A/N: Hmmm? So what did you think? Please tell me? Muse was a bit starved last chapter, and she needs your reviews... Next chapter will be M, by the way so it won't appear on the main page.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry for the delay! Real life is going to leave me alone for a bit now (finally.) I hope the wait proves worth it! Ooohhh, I iz nervous!**

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Part 3

What in the hell was Becker doing there? And Abby wasn't buying his bullshit line about being on holiday. Becker didn't _take_ holidays.

"You were sent as a baby-minder, weren't you?" Abby accused.

Becker's face went opaque; she'd not get a different answer from him. That cemented it for her though; he had either been sent to watch them, or he'd come to look out for them of his own accord. Either way, Abby was not pleased with the implication that they _needed_ looking after. She and Connor had survived quite well all on their own… although in this instance she had to admit she was pretty happy that he was here.

A whimper escaped Connor's lips, despite how tightly he had them pressed together. He was trying to just get _out_, and here was Becker and Abby arguing about ridiculous things. He wasn't happy about Becker looking after them like errant children either… and he was sure once his body stopped protesting he would be more concerned, but at the moment all he wanted was to have a lie down. And pain pills. Maybe some Wild Turkey as a chaser. All three would be best, with a side of Abby.

"Connor? Let's get you to hospital," Abby insisted, breaking off her argument with Becker… for now.

"No. No, I want to go to our island. M'fine. Just need to rest."

"Temple, you can hardly stand. You're going-" Becker began.

Connor raised his head, his jaw set stubbornly, "I said no," he replied, his voice low and deceptively calm.

Abby looked back and forth between the two men as they stared each other down. She was hoping she could enlist Becker's aid in convincing Connor to get checked out, but the hope died as an understanding passed between them in that silent stare. Becker nodded, accepting Connor's request.

"Alright, but I'm taking you to your hut myself, and after Abby examines you, if she decides you need to go to hospital, you're going," Becker said.

For a tense second, she thought Connor was about to argue again, but then he simply nodded and let himself sag against her again.

Connor was quiet on the boat ride to their island. He lay with his eyes closed and his head in Abby's lap, as he had so many times in the Cretaceous. Everything hurt, from his pounding head to his aching body to his legs where the rope had dug into him as he'd struggled to escape. It had all been his fault, and he wondered why Abby even tolerated being near him, much less why she was carefully stroking his hair, avoiding the cut on his scalp.

Trust him to muck things up. He should have just gone with the standard tourist package, but no, he had to do something _special._ Well this certainly classified as special, at any rate. He'd had to be _rescued._ A team had to come for them, which meant the entire ARC would know of it. He had enough to contend with already without people doubting him… more than they already did. More than he doubted himself. He thought that sort of thing was behind him, at least he'd hoped it was.

As it turned out, Becker was staying in the next hut over, a mile down the beach. He would _continue_ to stay there, despite Abby's protests. He maintained that he _was_ on holiday, specifically, he was training for a triathlon. Abby had given up the fight; she had bigger things to worry about. Connor had withdrawn completely into himself, and she wasn't sure whether it was from pain, or guilt, or what exactly. The only thing he'd said to her was that he was sorry… which was ridiculous, and she'd told him so. He'd not spoken another word since.

Abby's jaw dropped as she beheld the "hut" Connor had reserved for them. She'd expected something akin to a tiki hut, but this was a palatial beach house. Open and airy, with large windows and wooden floors, a wraparound porch with a view of the beach, a deep Jacuzzi tub and a king size four poster bed. It was beautiful and perfect. Abby promised Becker she'd ring him if she needed help and shooed him away. She figured Connor would not want anyone present whilst she examined him.

"Connor… this is lovely!" she smiled.

He just grunted and sank into the sofa, closed his eyes and leaned his head back. She sighed and bit back the diatribe that was circling inside her head. Connor was in his own private pity party, she was sure of it, but having a go at him was the last thing she should do if there was any hope of salvaging their holiday. She pressed two of the narcotic painkillers that the medic on the rescue team had given her into Connor's hand along with a glass of water.

"Okay. Let's have a look at you," she said as soon as he'd swallowed them.

He sighed and let her help him out of his shirt, and then peeled his vest up as high as he could, wincing as he did so, and let her pull it off the rest of the way. Her manner was brusque, but her hands were gentle, as they always were, telling him by way of soft caress how concerned she was for him. He was bruised black and purple over one side of his ribcage, and she saw the edge of another livid bruise disappearing under his waistband.

She reached to unfasten his belt, but he stilled her with his hand on hers, "I've got it. I've got to go to the toilet anyway."

"We'll rinse out that cut on your head when you've finished. Just shout when you're ready," she replied as she stood and offered him a hand up.

He nodded and let her help him to his feet, stifling a groan of distress, and slowly made his way to the loo. The fact of it was that he'd not wanted her to see how much he was suffering. He was sure once the narcotic kicked in that he'd be right as rain, but until then he'd rather keep just how badly he was hurting to himself. He'd rather not have to go to hospital, and Abby would insist.

He unfastened his belt and the zip of his jeans, and then eased them down and over his hips. He clenched his jaw, determined not to cry out, but it was agony just to get his trousers down. He braced a hand against the wall, sweat breaking out on his forehead, the stab of pain bringing about a wave of nausea that left him weak. He swallowed hard when he realized just how hard that blow to his kidney must have been. Abby would most definitely send him to hospital if she knew. Afterwards, he sat carefully and took deep fortifying breaths in and out until he could stomach getting his trousers the rest of the way off. He couldn't help the noise of indignation he made when he realized he was still wearing his boots. The thought of having to bend over with the pain in his ribs was enough to make him want to cry in frustration. He needed Abby's help. He needed her help to get his bloody boots off. _Damn it_.

Abby came to check on him when he failed to reappear after a few moments. She helped him undress to his boxer shorts without comment, thankfully, although she gasped as she saw all the marks upon his body. Most were superficial, and within a few days he doubted if he'd feel them at all, but it looked pretty colorful against his pale skin. The worst of it was where he'd been hit in the kidney, the blow to his ribs, and his bits were still feeling a little tender. She muttered something about Badger Balm or BioFreeze under her breath, and he fervently hoped she hadn't any of that Badger stuff hidden away anywhere. It smelled horrid, and it _burned_, despite how much Abby insisted it helped.

Abby turned on the taps and checked the water temperature to make sure it wouldn't be too hot or cold for Connor, and then pulled the lever to use the hand sprayer. She bid him to sit next to the tub and lean his head over so she could rinse out all the clotted blood in his hair. The laceration itself wasn't large, but head wounds always bled out terribly. She directed the flow over his head, her fingers careful as she worked to unknot the dark strands of his hair. He didn't make a sound, but she saw the muscles of his shoulders knot as the spray hit a tender area.

"Sorry. I'm going as easy as I can," she murmured.

He grunted again instead of answering her. It made her angry, but she managed to keep from saying anything. Connor yelped as her anger manifested itself when she pulled on a tangle a bit harder than necessary. Oops. She took a moment to compose herself and started again. The water ran rusty red down the drain, a visceral reminder that once again, she'd come close to losing Connor. This time it hadn't even been work related. It made her want to scream for the unfairness of it all. They put their lives on the line every day, and Connor had tried so hard to plan this lovely holiday for them free from all the troubles they faced every day. She was still willing to give saving their holiday a go, but Connor had to do his part as well. It seemed this warranted drastic measures.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, "But you need to stop pouting, Connor. I don't blame you for what happened, and since you insist on continuing our holiday, I don't plan to spend it with you wallowing in your own pity. Snap out of it."

He turned his head to glare at her, ignoring the water that ran in rivulets down his back and chest. He took the proffered towel and pushed himself to standing.

His nostrils flared as his body vibrated with emotion, barely held in check, "You could have been killed."

"Is that what this is about?" she asked.

Eyes flashing, his mouth opened and closed as he tried to put into words the conflict roiling inside of him. Part of him wanted to run away as far and as fast as he could, and another part of him wanted to crush her to him and bury himself inside of her to reaffirm the fact that she was a vibrant living being, and he hadn't lost her. He had been terrified of what they had done with her when he'd waken up tied to a chair and alone, and he never _ever_ wanted to go through anything like that again. It was different than the purely physical danger that their job put them in. Those men… what they would have done to his Abby, and it would have been his fault. He would never forgive himself. He swallowed hard and stormed out of the bathroom and through the front door.

Abby watched openmouthed as he ran from her. She didn't know what had gotten into him, but she was going to sort it out if it killed her. She followed, stopping at the front door. She wanted to follow him down to the beach, but she thought better of it. Maybe he needed a little time alone to calm down first. She made sure he hadn't gone too far, and then left him to it. She wandered around the hut aimlessly, heartsick and saddened by the state of things. Connor was in pain, but he'd refused her help. No. She hadn't exactly offered it. More like she'd scolded him for being 'mardy' as he'd call it. _She started using his words now… gah. _It always made him smile when she did that, a product of hours spent together with only the other for company. He'd done the same though, picking up her words in turn. You'd think as much time as they'd spent together that he wouldn't still be so _confusing_.

Connor didn't know why he'd come out to the beach, just that in that moment, seeing Abby's crystalline blue eyes staring back at him without the slightest hint of accusation... It had been too much. She'd not blamed him for any of it, and she should have. He closed his eyes and let the warm moist air from the ocean wash over him, hoping it would help to clear his mind. The narcotic had helped; the oxycodone painted the edge of the pain with a softer finish. He felt it still, but it had receded to a dull ache. This was the rainy season and it felt like one of the tropical rains typical for this time of year was headed inland. Abby liked the rain, he mused. She would stand out in it, spread her arms wide and turn her face to the sky in invitation. His heart clenched painfully in his chest as his thoughts turned to her once again; why had he run from her when all he wanted was to hold her? He closed his eyes as the rain began to fall and let the it wash the tears from his face.

Abby watched Connor, worried for him. He was stood a few meters past the porch of the beach house, just outside the circle of light from the house. His head was down, shoulders slumped, no doubt deep in the process of self-flagellation. When the rain began to come, he just crossed his arms over his chest and turned his face to the sky. The rain wouldn't chase him inside… not this time. Abby knew there was but one way to convince him that he needed to put the events of the evening behind them. She stripped down out of her clothing, leaving it to fall on the floor, and strode purposefully towards Connor. She was not about to have this. Not on their holiday.

She hadn't intended to sneak up behind him, but the soft sand muffled her steps. She dropped the reed mats she'd nicked from the porch on the ground and he started, turning to face her with an almost comical look of surprise on his face.

"Abby, I-" he started to speak, halting as she realized she was naked, "What're you-"

She sidled up next to him and wrapped her arms around his narrow waist as she laid her head on his chest. After a heartbeat, his arms came around her. He held her so tightly she knew it had to hurt him as bruised as he was, but he didn't seem to notice nor to care. She closed her eyes and drank in the sensation of him surrounding her; his solid presence a comfort... he'd always been there for her, even when she hadn't been there for him. She loved him so much it hurt, and she wanted to show him; she wanted him inside of her. Right here on the rocky beach, with the rain and the wind and the ocean crashing in the background.

He pulled away far enough to capture her mouth in a scorching kiss, putting all that he couldn't say into it. Trying to tell her by his body how much he adored her. He'd walk through fire for her, and it killed him to think he'd put her in danger. He'd wanted to die when he thought they had her... would have done, had it been true. Compared to the pain of that, his physical injuries were nothing. He didn't want to hurt anymore, and it seemed sometimes as if the world was intent on pummeling him until he broke... but as long as he still had her, he never would. He deepened the kiss, tasting rain on her lips… tasted like tears.

"What would I do without you?" he asked.

She gave him a ghost of a smile, "I don't plan to ever let you find out."

His dark eyes grave, he shook his head, "You don't understand. I _need_ you, Abby."

She caressed his cheek, "I _do_ understand. You think I don't need you? 'Cause I do. You're mine, Connor Temple, like it or not."

His lips turned upward in a soft smile, his dimple making the briefest of appearances before he closed the distance between them again. This kiss was soft and tender, though no less passionate. He took his time to explore her mouth, languid sweeps of his tongue that left her wanting more. Connor fed upon her neck and throat, mouthed her collarbone and dipped down further to sample her breasts in the same maddingly slow but deliciously thorough fashion. Abby pushed his boxers down his hips, desperate to feel him skin to skin. She tunneled her fingers into the dark mass of his hair, careful to avoid the sore area, and held him to her as he tasted her, licking away the raindrops as they fell.

She undulated against him, her body aching for him. He obliged her, his long skillful fingers sought out her aching center. He massaged her slick folds expertly, his thumb circled, the pressure enough to make her come completely undone, and then he'd switch to sharp flicks from tips of his fingers, or a slow rub with the whole of his hand on her sex as he kissed her breathless and licked and nipped at her breasts. When he broke away, they were both panting and ready. He spread out the reed mats below them and then sat, pulling her into his lap. He wanted to watch her face; he wanted to see the emotions on her face as he made love to her.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed her hot core against him, the sensation of her slick heat sliding along his hard shaft elicited a low moan from his throat. He drew in a deep shuddering breath; he didn't think he could wait. She made that slow slide again, a soft sharp cry escaping her lips as he whimpered with need. His dark eyes were clouded with lust and love and a barely repressed hunger that she was determined to sate. She pressed a soft kiss to the cut on his lip, then the bruise on his cheek, her eyes tender and sorrowful. The muscle ticked in his jaw as he registered the intense emotions behind that soft touch, and she kissed his flexing jaw, too. She inhaled him into her lungs as she nibbled along his well-defined stubbled jaw then down his delectable neck as she slid her wet folds against his hard cock again. His hands convulsed and his body trembled, betraying the fierce desire burning inside of him. She didn't think she could hold back much longer either. Connor settled his hands on her hips, encouraging her as she ground against him.

She pulled back and locked her gaze with his, and then shifted and impaled herself on him with one swift stroke. He threw his head back and echoed her cry; and then fastened his mouth to hers possessively as she began to move. She set a slow but deliberate pace, nearly unsheathing completely before sinking into him as deeply as she could, grinding her swollen clit against him at the culmination of each stroke. He swallowed down her gasping breaths as he kissed her; he wanted to posses even her breath, all of her... everything. His hands skimmed over her, pausing to fondle her tight nipples, to caress her skin. He touched her as if her were worshiping her... each and every time. He gasped as she circled with her hips, the pleasure mounting. Her hands moved over his rain slick flesh, delighting in the feel of taut wiry muscle under soft skin. Oh, how she _needed_ him... how could he ever doubt that she needed him desperately?

She shuddered as the first wave of the orgasm took her unawares; Connor gave a strangled cry as her inner muscles clenched on his thick shaft, the sensation sending him over the edge along with her. Pleasure crashed over and through them both, their bodies frantically striving towards release. They clung to each other, desperate for an anchor in the midst of it, but found none, lost in the maelstrom. Their souls strove towards the other, entangling as they cried out beneath the rain and the sky... their union one of more than flesh and bone.

They clung to each other afterwards, shell-shocked by the power of their coupling. It had erased all doubts and uncertainties; they were meant to be together. Connor had no doubt that had they lived another life in any other universe, any divergent timeline, any other world... they would be together. Some things couldn't be denied, and whatever it was that was between himself and Abby was one of those things. She was his, and he was hers, and nothing could stop it, stifle it, break it or bind it. Not even death.

"You believe that?" she asked softly.

He hadn't intended to say it aloud, but perhaps it shouldn't matter. He closed his eyes and felt the wind and the rain on his face, her body still wrapped around him. He understood it now; he understood why she turned her face to the sky to feel the rain. It was as if the force of creation had spoken to his soul, "Yes, I believe it, with everything in me."

Her lips trembled, struck by the emotion his heartfelt words had stirred inside of her, "That's beautiful."

He tried to answer, to explain that it was just what he'd felt, and he'd not meant that he owned her because he knew he couldn't do that. Hell, he didn't want to do that... but his tongue tied now that he was _trying_ to speak and he knew he must sound a fool. Abby just smiled indulgently as she watched him struggle for words and kissed him softly.

"Me too," she admitted.

**END**

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**A/N: Quite a few soundtracks for this one. Stone Sour's "Say You'll Haunt Me" and Skillet's "Comotose" are a couple.**

**I surely hope that ya'll enjoyed this, and please tell me what you thought? Reviews feed my starving muse... and then she writes more, and faster. :) I plan to get back to "Two Against the World" next.**


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